The struggles I faced were nothing like I had imagined. I never saw a live snake during my time in Africa, except for the pythons in the snake temple (which are not as scary as things like vipers and cobras.) The spiders I saw were pretty harmless. Although demonic activity is very real there, and I saw people practicing certain rituals, I never had a close enough encounter with it to experience real fear (like a demon-possessed person coming to attack me--never happened.) We took precautions against thieves, who can be a real threat, and we met missionaries who had been attacked in their home. However, it didn't happen to me.
We faced many different kinds of struggles, which at times
left us feeling very discouraged, depressed, and physically and emotionally
worn out. I won't talk about a lot of them here, but I will say this: when
moving to a third world country, be prepared to be ripped away from everything
that is comfortable to you. Getting adjusted to a new culture is very
difficult. It means questioning everything about your identity, and trying to
figure out which parts of your old life to keep and which new things you need
to adapt. You can't just go and live exactly like the people you are
ministering to; they don't expect or want you to. They want you to show them
some new things. (Like pancakes. Whenever I made pancakes, they were such a hit
that I imagine someone could start a very successful business in West Africa
opening an IHOP.) Besides, everyone in that culture lives differently,
depending on their status, wealth, and life choices. Sometimes you want to copy
what someone else is doing, and they say, "No, don't do it this way."
Then you have to figure out why they are telling you that. Do they have a good
reason, or are they just assuming that white people don't act that way (even
though it is a good thing to do)? The West Africans sometimes assume things
about white people based on their experiences with white people, most of whom
have been business men, tourists, or government officials. (Not always the
nicest people.)Other times an African gave advice like, "Don't eat
that," and he was right--it was something he didn't even touch himself. (I
am thinking of a certain rodent that is cooked in Benin, which we wanted to try. Our friend told us not to, because
this type of animal retains worms in his body even after being cooked. We
listened to him, and that's one food we never ate.)
One difficulty I faced during the time I was pregnant in
Africa was nausea. I was 5 months along when we left for the field, but I still
faced nausea. This was probably increased by the nervousness I felt, and by
trying to adjust to new eating habits. For the first month, we lived with an
African pastor's family, and they fed us very well. Some of the food was very
good; I wish I had learned a few more recipes! But other times, my stomach just
wasn't in the mood for huge plops of cooked cornmeal and fish. A goat was
killed in our honor, which Bill and I found that we don't like the taste of. It
has a weird aftertaste, and was kind of greasy and gristly. We tried to eat
well, so that we wouldn't offend our hosts, but that wasn't easy to do on a
nauseous stomach. One breakfast food that was served to us was a stew of hot
dogs, canned peas, and spicy tomato sauce. It was pretty good for dinner, but a
little strange to us for breakfast. But we also had plenty of good foods to
eat, so that month in our host family's home wasn't too bad. One thing that
concerned us was the fact that our room had big cracks at the door that opened
to the outside, and no mosquito net on the bed. I was getting tons of mosquito
bites, and malaria is a serious threat for anyone, but especially pregnant
women. As soon as we could, we began renting a house of our own, and Bill made
sure that every seal was tight and no mosquitoes could get in. I could say a
lot about our difficulties with that house and our situation there, but I'll
stay on the topic of dealing with pregnancy. One of our first difficulties was
what to eat! Our host family had fed us well. Now we had a house, but had to
figure out how to get to the grocery store, and when there, what to buy. There
was no Walmart or Giant, and our African friends weren't the biggest help in
getting us to the best stores. First we stopped at a little shack of a store in
our neighborhood, where we could buy tuna fish, tomato paste, and spaghetti.
Bill soon went to a larger store, but it still took a while to figure out what
can be bought and prepared in this new country. And what could be afforded.
Milk cost about $8-9 a gallon (sold in liters that could stay on a shelf until
opened.) Expensive, but I was pregnant so we bought a lot anyway. Generic Cheerios
(Toastie-Oaties or something) could cost around $5 for a small box. Some things
were a little cheaper in Africa, but most groceries are a lot more expensive
than in America. This is because almost everything has to be imported. It's
hard to learn the African way of cooking right away, especially when you are
dealing with other adjustments to the country, in addition to being pregnant.
So we did buy quite a bit of American-type items so we could prepare food that
we recognized. We also ate a lot of bread, which was cheap, and fruit. Lots of
bananas. But I did worry about not eating very well during my pregnancy, since
I still faced nausea and had trouble figuring out what to prepare for dinner. I
also had to figure out what to eat when I got 3:00 am hunger pains. I usually
ate a bowl of cereal, peanut butter on crackers, or cookies. Until I found out
one morning that I had sleepily eaten two cookies that were crawling with
maggots (weevil larvae.) It had taken me a while to realize that those
"whole grains" were moving. It was a long time before I ate that type
of cookie again (Petit Dejeuners), but I did eventually get over my fear of
them, since Petit Dejeuners are delicious.
"What To Expect When You're Expecting" was like my
Bible during those months. (Yes, I used my real Bible too, but it just doesn't
address some of the same specific questions.) I read it, reread it, and
double-checked things constantly. The truth is, I didn't know what to expect. I
didn't have ladies my age, of my culture, to talk to about what pregnancy and
labor are like. My mom was a big help, too, but I just like finding answers in
books rather than calling people all the time. And "What to Expect"
dealt with new issues that were perhaps different in the 80s. (Sorry, Mom.)
That book was a tremendous help to me. I felt like it pretty much told me
everything I needed to know. It gave good advice. Thank you to the Genesis
Pregnancy Care Center for giving me my copy, along with other much needed
supplies and help!
One of the first struggles we faced during those first few
months was getting to the right clinic. Bill had searched online and found a
clinic in Togo that received good reviews from expatriates, and was considered
one of the best hospitals in the country. We told our African contacts that we
wanted to go to that hospital, but they found us another clinic. The other
clinic seemed fine, to me. Everything was clean and sanitized, the midwife was
friendly, and they seemed to know what they were talking about. It was a bit of
a struggle that the midwife only spoke French, because although I knew the
French that I needed to know in order to speak to her, I was still nervous
about not being able to speak English. But we visited the clinic for a couple
of the monthly visits, and asked a lot of questions, and the midwife seemed to
follow the protocol of my What to Expect book. One thing that interested me was
when she looked under my eyelids and determined that I needed to take an iron
supplement. That didn't seem like a dangerous thing to diagnose, and I knew
that my eating habits weren't great, so I took the pill. In America you have to
take blood tests to be diagnosed for anything, but in Africa they just checked
my eyelids, which I read somewhere is a real way to check for low iron. (It is
possible that the person checking was used to black people's eyes, and my
eyelids looked like they were the wrong color because my skin is lighter
anyway. But I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.) I did have to take a blood
test, but it only cost $10, compared to America, which I think cost $8000
(which I didn't have to pay, thanks to insurance.) America ran more tests,
which I think are mostly unnecessary. I wouldn't want America's quality of
healthcare to deteriorate, but it does seem like there are some ways American
healthcare could cut costs and be more affordable for people.
After a few visits, we switched clinics from the one we
started at to the one Bill had found on the internet. Bill had been pushing to
switch from the start, but I thought the first one would be fine. The decision
came when we asked in more detail about Caesarian sections. We had asked on day
one if the clinic could perform them, and the answer was yes. As we got to know
Togo better, we found that the answer to EVERY question is yes. The Togolese
think they are being polite by telling you what you want to hear, even if it
isn't the truth. This is one of the frustrations of missionary life! (Beninese
people are more blunt, more likely to tell you the truth, and are considered
rude by the Togolese. But we preferred the Beninese way.) We found out that if
we went to the first clinic and a Caesarean was decided upon, I would need to
ride in a taxi to the other side of town. Since the baby's life could be in
danger, and sometimes Caesareans have to be performed within minutes, we didn't
like that plan. So we finally got our African contacts to take us to the
Clinique St. Joseph, which is the one recommended on the internet. We liked the
doctor right away. He spoke pretty good English along with French, had studied
in Germany, and had once visited Philadelphia. He was impressed that Bill is
related to a former US president (William Henry Harrison; it came up in small
talk) and called our baby "Mr. President." Unlike in America, where I
spoke to doctors for about 3 minutes during my prenatal visits, our doctor in
Togo took as long as we needed to talk through our concerns.
Togolese hospitals can't handle all of the complications
that American hospitals can. If serious problems had been found, I could have
had to fly to France at the last minute, and risk losing the baby. We had to
trust that something like that wouldn't happen. But as I read in my pregnancy
book about possible complications, many of the potential problems could be
handled by the Clinique St. Joseph. They had oxygen to give to the baby and an
incubator for premies, they could perform a Caesarian section if necessary, and
they had the baby's heartbeat on a monitor during labor. They performed a
couple of ultrasounds, and the doctor checked my pelvic bones to make sure the
baby's head would be able to fit. (According to some labor stories I have heard
about women laboring for 24 hours before the doctor decides her baby's head is
too big, that seems like a good thing to check!) God blessed me with a normal
and healthy delivery, which I will talk about in Part Three!
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